


This Won't Last Forever, Just Give It Time

by SmallTownRoseBudd



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Exes, F/M, Facing his past, Fluff and Angst, It's okay in the end, M/M, Noah Reid music, SWEET BOYS, angsty fluff, soul searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21517075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallTownRoseBudd/pseuds/SmallTownRoseBudd
Summary: Patrick works through his past through one of Noah's songs.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/Rachel
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	This Won't Last Forever, Just Give It Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mostly To Yourself](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/536773) by Noah Reid. 



> Set after the end of Season 5. This has been floating in my head for a while. I've always gotten the impression that Patrick had a lot to work through himself. Of course, the song is Noah Reid's "Mostly to Yourself" (link above). With Noah's tour beginning, I thought now was the perfect time to post. *Newish to posting in this fandom. Please be kind* Enjoy.

They’d struck a balance on open mic nights at Rose Apothecary after much negotiation. Patrick got to host them if he sang at least one song that was pointed at David (even if no one else knew it was being sung to him) and David would allow open mic nights, but no more than once a month. Having them was an easy business decision – charging cover meant that the more people who attended, the better off they did. Sales picked up, too, once David had the idea to allow for extra shopping time before and after, calling it “social hour.” Genius. They were starting to attract people from Elmdale and other surrounding towns as well

As the interest grew, so did Patrick’s attachment to those evenings. He’d enjoyed writing music back in high school and college, but had stopped for quite a while when his life seemed to stagnate with Rachel. His creativity and drive to write had vanished and he’d hung it up for a while. After moving out of his childhood home, he left his piano behind and only had his guitar, which rarely got dusted off. He’d started playing it again sporadically after he’d started working with David on the store, but it was still very much a side hobby. He’d had to work hard to build up his callouses again.

When his parents met David and he’d finally come out to them, he’d asked his mom to bring him the old music stuff he’d left at his parents’ house. One weekend on a short visit, she’d brought him a file box full of folders of sheet music he’d written and books of notes he’d jotted down when he had been writing. He was starting to feel the itch again.

The growth in their business had recently allowed for the purchase of an espresso machine (mainly for David) and also allowed for the purchase of a decent full-sized keyboard for open mic nights. It wasn’t quite as good as a piano, but they didn’t have room for one anyway. And the keyboard would at least partially pay for itself by attracting more people to perform. David had given in quickly to the purchase – he could tell it meant a lot to Patrick, regardless of his personal feelings about open mic nights.

Having the keyboard option had brought out even more participants and had helped created a depth to the performances. They were starting to see singers who could now be backed up on “piano” and quite honestly, they were surprised ad some of the talent Schitt’s Creek had to offer.

Tonight, Patrick had told David that he needed some time at the store to finish up some inventory and also work on a few arrangements for the coming months. David happily left him to it and met up with his family for dinner at the Café. He’d not seen as much of them lately, what with the store and everything going on with the engagement. He was also practically living at Patrick’s, so he didn’t see them much in the evenings either. Sometimes it still struck him as funny. In their previous lives, he rarely saw them and didn’t really want to, unless he’d needed something – or Alexis had needed him. Now it was a different story. He actually _liked_ being around them and missed them when too much time had passed.

* * *

Patrick had finished the inventory quite quickly. There wasn’t much to do with it until new shipments arrived at the beginning of the next week, but after the sticky-fingered youths, he’d kept a closer eye on their stock. Really, Patrick had just wanted to settle in front of the keyboard that evening and work out some of the funk he’d been feeling lately.

He loved David with his whole heart and he was ecstatic that David had said “yes” when he’d proposed. But he couldn’t shake the feelings of regret and general shittiness about his past with Rachel. He’d been frustrated with himself for such a long time. His life didn’t have to be the way he’d made it. He’d suppressed his true feelings and self for so long. David didn’t “make” him gay. He’d been gay all along, but he’d hid it from everyone, including himself. And he hated that. He felt like he’d wasted so much time. His time. Rachel’s time. He’d been untruthful with his parents. Years passed which he could have spent happy. Years Rachel could have spent with someone who could love her like he now loved David.

There had been so many times he could have not lied to himself. When he was in middle school and the new boy moved to town and asked him to share his textbook and a thrill ran down his spine when their hands touched. Or a few years later when the cute nerdy boy kept asking Patrick to help him learn the guitar. And he did – for a few lessons. Until sitting next to him became so electric that Patrick couldn’t sit still. He blamed it on being stressed and busy and he stopped. There was also the time in college when Rachel had been away for the weekend and he’d gone out dancing with friends. He’d locked eyes with a gorgeous, tall man across the bar while he sipped his beer. His body reacted before his mind and he kept telling himself it was the beer, not feelings for the guy. And when the guy walked over and asked him to dance, he said “no” and pretended that the shiver down his spine, so familiar, was really just him missing Rachel.

The years of lies he’d told himself – including all those times with Rachel where he couldn’t perform like his mind wanted him to. Those memories were still with him. Still gnawing away at his heart. He’d had so many years to get this right, to take charge of his own life and direction, but it took him escaping to the tiny town of Schitt’s Creek to finally meet his own eyes directly in the mirror in the morning. It took David and David’s strength to give him that last nudge. And for that, Patrick would always be grateful. So very grateful, but he still regretted all that missed time.

He saved his work and shut the computer. He went to the back storage room and got the stand, keyboard, and bench to set up. The keyboard had been placed in the back space of the store until it was going to be needed again. Patrick wanted the acoustics of the full store, though, so he carried it out into the back of the shop and got it set up. He faced it out, toward the windows, so he could watch the little town as the sunset on a long late-spring evening. The keys were beckoning to him and he knew what song he wanted to work on. He sat down on the bench David had picked for the keyboard. The bench was black, of course, wide enough for two, but narrow enough to fit in the space. Once the pedal was in place, and he’d adjusted the levels, his fingers found their places.

Patrick had been working on a song for a while that soothed his feelings. It wasn’t really for an upcoming show, but since he’d left it partially unfinished back in college, he had wanted to finally polish it up. David didn’t really need to know about the song or why it was so cathartic to work on it. Patrick had tried to work on the song on his guitar, but when that just didn’t sound right, it was another push to get the keyboard. Patrick fiddled with the keys, and then started the opening chords.

He worked on it for a while, making a few note changes, smoothed a few sections and played around with the words. He was lost in his own world of the music and his heart being open and healing from what he had put himself through. At the back of the store, with the keyboard at a reasonable level, he didn’t really need to worry about the people walking by to the Café hearing him. The words flowed and so did the memories, of the days misspent, of Rachel, of feeling inadequate at every turn.

Finally, Patrick thought he’d gotten the song right and he started it over again. As he did, lost in the music and his own head, he didn’t hear the back door quietly open and close. David walked in, softly for once, as he heard the opening chords to a song he didn’t recognize. And heard Patrick’s voice join the chords:

> _Well it's mostly in the morning_
> 
> _When your eyes, they ain't opening_
> 
> _And it's mostly that you won't even try_

The words fell easily from Patrick’s mouth. David shut the door gently while he listened to his fiancé sing. He rounded the corner to view Patrick seated at their new keyboard, lights low in the store, a pencil behind his right ear and a few sheets of music scattered around. David leaned on the door jam and took in the sight. Patrick’s back was to him, he could see the tension in his shoulders, the power held there. His head slightly tilted down toward the keyboard and music in front of him.

> _And it's mostly in the gutter_
> 
> _With your voice broke, you sing_
> 
> _And it's mostly to yourself, that you lie_

Images of himself flooded Patrick’s mind: getting ready in the morning at Rachel’s place, forcing smiles on his lips that didn’t meet his eyes, of all the date nights that didn’t feel right, and of all those nights that he just thought there was something wrong with him.

> _You say, "fuck it man, you're better off, it's better this way_
> 
> _You're mostly in the shadows, and that's fine."_
> 
> _Or you say, "fuck it man, you're not fine_
> 
> _But you're doing it your way."_
> 
> _And it's mostly to yourself, that you lie_
> 
> _It's mostly to yourself, that you lie_

Patrick could see himself back in college, getting back together with Rachel again after a nasty breakup. He’d chosen to go back. He’d decided he’d just make it work. It was time. He was old enough to get married and they’d been together, off and on forever. She was nice, it was fine. It was expected. It was safe. So what if he felt a raw gnawing in the pit of his stomach? His parents liked her, and that mattered. He could do the 2.5 kids and a house and a dog. He was just nervous. But it was his _choice._

This last breakup – this was it. He’d come home and just couldn’t do it anymore. He was lashing out against anyone around him. Losing control. Rachel had gone for a weekend away with the girls and he couldn’t take it. By himself in their apartment, he was forced to just spend time with himself. And he hated it. He didn’t want to hate it, but he did. So after one, or three too many glasses of whiskey, he went into the bathroom to take a piss and had glanced at his own face in the mirror. His eyes were tired and wary. He looked sad and there was zero spark in his eyes left. It was that moment that Patrick credited to getting him out.

> _And you let yourself off easy_
> 
> _And when your heart is on the ground_
> 
> _You say this won't last forever, just give it time_
> 
> _But time keeps moving forward_
> 
> _And you mostly come around_

As he played the chord progression, he remembered those same hands packing his few things – some clothes, his guitar, a few pictures of his parents – and then writing Rachel the note. It was a coward’s way out, but he needed to be gone. He left it on the counter for her. He didn’t want anything else. Just his few possessions that were his outright and his freedom. He had his own car, a Toyota he’d saved for, and he got in and drove.

> _But it’s mostly to yourself that you lie_
> 
> _It's mostly to yourself that you lie_
> 
> _It's it mostly to yourself that you lie_
> 
> _It's mostly to yourself, that you lie_

As he played the last few bars, he thought of his arrival at Schitt’s Creek. Of meeting Ray and finding a job and a place to stay. Of meeting the man who showed him how not to lie to himself any more. David. His fiancé, his love, his person. The final major chord rang out in the empty store and his hands stilled. The song was his soliloquy of his past and what he’d left behind. He wasn’t that person any more. He’d grown and changed. He’d screwed up along the way, really screwed up by not telling David about Rachel, but he’d gotten back on track. No more secrets, no more lies. That was over. The song was finished.

* * *

David leaned there, quietly taking in his fiancé’s words. In the low ambient lighting of the store, Patrick’s hands seemed to move with strength and purpose across the keyboard. He was beautiful. His voice rose and fell with the verses, When Patrick finished, his hands just hovered over the keys, like they didn’t quite know where to go next. As the tension eased in his back and shoulders, they dropped to his sides and David started toward him, his footsteps alerting Patrick to his presence.

Patrick didn’t jump when he heard David behind him, just slid over on the bench a bit, so there’d be room for David to join him. As he sat down, Patrick’s eyes stayed downcast to the keyboard, like he was still seeing the music played there. David reached his arm around him in a side hug, pulling him close, and kissing that wonderfully soft place on Patrick’s temple, lingering there a moment. That place David always kissed when Patrick was upset and he wanted to give him all the comfort he could muster in the world. He kissed him, and pulled him close.

“Hi,” David said in a quiet breathy voice. “That was…lovely. Sad, and lonely sounding, but lovely. An original?” He knew it was, but in the moment, he could feel that Patrick need to be given the opportunity to share what he wanted to about the song.

Patrick stirred at the sound of his voice, close and comforting. “Yeah,” he shook his head a small amount as he answered, like he was knocking the words loose and bringing himself back to the moment, “Yes. An original I started to write in college. I’ve been working on finishing it. Polishing it, you know.” He shrugged. His hands seemed to be projecting all his nervous energy out – rubbing on the tops of his thighs as he glanced at David, nervous about what he might see there. 

David placed another careful kiss to his temple. “I love you,” he whispered, his lips still there on the soft skin, “I love you, so much.” He didn’t need to say more. They’d both been liars before they’d met. David lied to the world. Patrick lied to himself and as a result, lied to the world. But their relationship brought honesty back for both of them. David’s Mariah level love for him proved that every day.

Patrick turned and captured David’s lips in a slow kiss. The tears that had been stinging his eyes dissipated. He had his truth. He met his own eyes in the mirror at _their_ apartment every day. David hadn’t pushed him or made him gay, he just gave him the lens through which to see himself fully. To be vulnerable while still being his cocky self. He hadn’t been this vulnerable with anyone else because it was such a risk. They could figure him out, and if they did, he’d have to have faced it himself.

But with David, there was no longer a reason to hide. He loved him. He loved his family, and he loved their town. He loved how no one questioned him. He loved how his friendship with Stevie grew and how much they loved poking fun at David together.

“I love you, too.” Patrick told him as he pulled away for a breath. “Thank you. This song just needed to be finished so I could put it away.” He smirked a bit as he rested his head on David’s shoulder, feeling the warm softness of his sweater. “It’s time to lock that box up.” He could feel David chuckle to himself, glad the sadness that had been hanging over them was lifted.

He sat up straighter and carefully stacked the pages of the song he called _Mostly to Yourself_ , and put them back in their folder, complete and finished. That chapter was over.

It was time for a new one.


End file.
